Against the Clock
by SiriusSte
Summary: Don is working on a sensitive case involving the murder of 5 to date children. He can't wait for Charlie to come back from holiday to offer mathematical advice, but Charlie's involvement may prove more dangerous for his brother than Don realises.
1. Chapter 1

Don Eppes was dog-tired. He was working on a top priority case for the FBI and he was getting nowhere. For the best part of 2 weeks he and his partner Terry had encountered dead end after dead end as their suspects slipped further away from them. It was obvious even to the casual observer that Don hadn't had any sleep in at least 3 days. Terri had just sent him home in a cab, after making him promise to get some rest, but now he was pacing his apartment trying to piece together pieces of a jigsaw that just didn't fit.

His dad complained that he was becoming obsessive and Don know in his heart that that was true. He also knew that his behaviour had an adverse effect on Terri and David, his colleagues in the case. His obsessiveness was forcing them to work longer hours and to give up things they were doing for the case. He could see the lack of sleep beginning to tell on them as well.

As the turned in the kitchen of his flat, his eye caught the picture he had pinned up on his fridge. It was an autopsy photo. It was the third victim of 'The Virgin Killer.' The press had dubbed him this – or them, because the FBI suspected there were three working in a team – because he had kidnapped 5 children and murdered them, but not one bore any signs of being abused. They seemed to just get kicks out of killing children.

The autopsy photos, case notes and suspect details were all pinned to Don's fridge and freezer. Every time he wondered if he should calm down a bit and take a bit of a back seat in the investigation, all he had to do was look at the victims and remember.

There was a knock at the door; Don looked through the spy hole and saw that it was Terri.

"Sorry to disturb you," she said when he opened the door for her, "but I thought you ought to see this at once – you _have_ been resting, right?" She added, shooting him a look.

"Yeah, of course. What've you got?"

She produced from under her jacket a file. Don looked at the name on the file, 'Madison, Howard.'

"Who the hell is Howard Madison?" He asked as he opened it and glanced at the photo.

"You asked to see details of Rory Tubman's known associates. This guy was apparently on the buses with him. He's done time for withholding property and demanding hostage money before now."

"But that's just it, Terri," groaned Don exasperatedly, "these people _aren't_ holding the kids hostage, or demanding ransom money. They're just killing them. No explanation."

"I know that, but all Tubman's other friends are squeaky-clean. This is the only one with any kind of record. Just thought you'd like to see – sorry if I disturbed you." She turned to go.

"Wait –" said Don "thanks for bringing it round."

"Yeah – well . . . see you later."

She clicked the door shot and Don stared after her. He wished he hadn't snapped. She was doing her best – any other partner would have given up the ghost a long time ago and told him to drop it as well, but Terri wasn't like that. She was passionate about her cases – probably as passionate as Don – that was what he loved about her. _OK, stay professional Don,_ he thought to himself. _Stay focused._ The problem with being partnered with a woman he had nearly asked to marry him once upon a time was that staying focused was ten times the task it should have been.

He sat down in the sofa in front of the telly to read the file. From what he saw, Terri seemed to be right. If any of Tubman's old friends were helping him out, this had to be the one. Why hadn't this guy turned up when he originally asked for a list of possible accomplices?

Half an hour later Don threw the file on the floor in frustration. Even if this guy was involved, he could see nothing that would lead them to the kiddie killers. He couldn't take it anymore; he had to get out of here. For a while as he got dressed into something that made it seem less as if he had been dragged through a hedge backwards, he toyed with the idea of going down to his office at the FBI, but then he thought better of it.

For one thing, it was already half 9 at night, and for another David was working late tonight, and he would almost certainly tell Terri if Don had been there. Instead Don decided to go to his brother Charlie's place.

Charlie was on holiday at the moment and probably wouldn't be back for another week, but their dad would be there. Somehow Don and Charlie's dad Alan always managed to make his sons feel better if they were down or frustrated. Whatever Don told Charlie about coming round to make sure their dad was OK, his real reason was that he just loved going 'home.' Somehow it made work, or any other problems he had seem less bad.

"Don?" Said his dad half an hour later when Don let himself in on his key. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, dad. Just thought I'd come round – see how you were."

"You hungry?"

"Yeah definitely."

"How's your – er – case going?" Asked Alan Eppes as he went into the kitchen to get some plates ready.

"Don't ask," said Don, "terrible. Terri just dropped off another potential suspect, but that leads us nowhere either. And then I snapped at her and she left."

Alan looked at him. "You know – Terri understands you better than anyone I can think of. She isn't going to take offence just because you were frustrated."

"Yeah," Don smiled. "Yeah, probably. What is this anyway?"

"Beef stew. Your mother's recipe, I thought I'd try."

They ate for a while in silence before Alan said, "I had a phone call from Charlie earlier on. He and Larry are in England now. Somewhere called the Lake District. Says he's coming back next week. Flight lands on Tuesday."

Don looked up and grinned broadly.

"I though you'd be pleased. Just don't go bombarding him with your case the second he gets in the door, OK?"

"Dad there are kids dying –" said Don.

"I know son, but give him a moment to settle back in, then you can have him for the whole week if you want."

"OK – alright. I promise," said Don, then he added "really!" because Alan was watching him narrowly.

With the prospect of Charlie backing 4 days time, the case might be nearer a resolution after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Professor Charles Eppes and Professor Larry Fleindhart both of CalSci University stepped off the plane simultaneously. 

"Come on," Charlie was saying, "there's no point going back to that big old shack by yourself, you may as well come back to mine for a while."

Larry shrugged, scanning the faces in the crowd waiting to greet passengers. "Oh, I see a love-lorn undergraduate come to meet her thesis advisor off the plane."

Charlie dug him in the ribs, but his spirits rose as he watched Amita seeking them out among the throng of people disembarking from the plane. "I don't see Professor Wilson here," he remarked.

"I've told you Charles; there's nothing between myself and Laura Wilson," but the twinkle in his eye and the soft smile on his lips as he said her name belied him.

"Charlie! Larry!" Amita had spotted them. She was a sight for sore eyes, there was no doubt about that. A quick mental calculation told Charlie exactly how many seconds since he had last seen her: that was 1814400 seconds too long in his opinion.

"Hey Amita. What are you doing here? We never said when the plane was coming in."

"You said Tuesday, and seeing as neither of you like night flying I knew you'd be in about now. I've only been waiting for a couple of hours."

Charlie went slightly red as Larry gave him a significant look behind Amita's back, and his voice was slightly hoarse when he said "thanks."

"I hope you brought transport?" Asked Larry.

"Naturally," she said.

Amita's landrover wasn't very large, but they managed to cram both suitcases in the back next to Larry, while Charlie sat in front.

"Larry's coming back to mine," said Charlie, turning round to look at him.

"I'm fine Charles, seriously."

"Well why not Larry? You've just got used to having a bit of company round you."

Eventually the two persuaded him to go to Charlie's house for a few hours. Charlie's swaying argument was that his dad might be persuaded to wash some of Larry's stuff in their machine.

When they pulled in to the front drive some 10 minutes later Mr Eppes came out to meet them.

"How was the flight?" He asked.

"Oh, it was amazing," said Larry. "They couldn't do enough for us – and the food was superb."

"How about you Charlie?"

"Like Larry says, they were pretty good."

"I've got some couscous inside – you'll stay won't you Amita?"

Amita concurred and she stayed downstairs chatting to Alan while Charlie went upstairs to dump his stuff and show Larry where the bathroom was.

"You know," Mr Eppes was saying, "I was really glad Charlie agreed to go to Europe with Larry. I thought it would be good for him to go somewhere and do something by himself – without me, I mean. But it turns out _I'm_ the one who missed _him_."

"Well that's perfectly natural," said Amita. "You've got used to always having him around."

"Maybe, I just always thought I'd be OK if he went. Reason I was so keen on him going was for _him_ to get used to being away from his Daddy, not the other way round."

"Charlie is far more mature than people imagine," said Amita reflectively. "No offence, but when I first heard by thesis advisor still lived with his dad – well, I've learned I was wrong."

Alan smiled. Larry and Charlie entered the dining room. During dinner, after Europe had been discussed thoroughly, Charlie asked "How's Don?"

Alan exchanged a look with Amita, who knew a little about Don's case before answering, "Not great."

"How d'you mean?" Asked Charlie, "he's not –?"

"His health's fine," said Alan quickly. "It's this case he's working on; something about child-napping. There've been a spate of these child murders recently in the same area of LA. Don has the case, but it isn't going well for some reason. They just can't seem to find anything substantial."

Amita nodded. "Don was saying they had plenty of suspects, but somehow every lead seems to be a dead end."

"So what's wrong with that?" said Charlie, "He has a bad case – everyone has them. I get stuck on a maths problem – occasionally – but it's nothing to worry about."

"Tell that to him," said Amita.

"He's taking it personally Charlie. You can relate to that. You took that P versus NP thing personally, remember. He seems to think his failure to catch the perpetrators is a personal insult." Alan shook his head. "You know the trouble I have when either one of you decides to take failure personally."

Charlie looked as if he resented the remark, and was about to say so, when he realised that there might be more truth in the statement that was optimal. "What about a mathematical angle?" He asked instead.

Amita said, "he gave me a load of statistics and asked me to find anything at all which might help him find the killers, but to be honest I have no clue Charlie. The equations I've run all show that there is no link between the victims. I even managed to turn up a couple of suspects by doing a statistical analysis of child molesters in the area, but Don's checked them out and they're clean. He's been waiting for you to come back to see if you have anything new you can add. But Charlie, I really think that maths can't solve this case."

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Amita, maths has no limits, you know that. The answer will be in the numbers, we just need to be able to find them."

A/N: I'm really sorry it took me so long update, but I've been away in Manchestor over Christmas and havn't had access to a computer.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Yes, I know, I'm horrible and I deserted you for a while. The story has been brewing in the back of my mind the whole time, its just I rarely get time to right. I have handed in a piece of long overdue coursework this week, so I thought I'd have a marathon writing session: this chapter is extra long in a half-hearted attempt to compensate.

Next morning, as Charlie walked along the glass stalls to his brother's office, he was still full of confidence in his maxim. Maths was unbeatable. Maths would solve the case.

"Charlie!"

"Hey Don, I'm not interrupting am I?"

"No no, It's OK, we were waiting for you. It's been pretty slow this morning. As we have no new leads I thought I might be able to give you a breakdown of the case."

"Yeah sure," said Charlie, sinking into a chair and depositing his grubby backpack beside it.

"Right," said Don, "Lights, Camera, Action, if you please."

Charlie started when the lights actually did go off. He looked around and smiled when he saw it was only Terri who had dimmed them for the slideshow to work more effectively.

"First vic," said Don as a photograph of an emaciated child appeared on the screen. Charlie was horrified. The kid had been beaten in several places and blood congealed around the brow line. Don bowed his head. "This one was found alive," he said quietly. "Died within an hour of being admitted to hospital. FBI wasn't involved then, LAPD found her and assumed it was domestic abuse. The report says she was too frightened to tell them anything about herself, not even a name. Claims she couldn't remember."

"That badly abused, it's not entirely impossible, though," put in Terri.

Charlie nodded, still staring and the bruises and blood on the young child's body. The normal questions of who would do this? were running through his mind, but in the case of the brilliant mathematician's they were accompanied by numbers, hundreds of numbers, to try and come up with an answer to that question.

"Vic number 2," said Don, changing slides. "Same sort of thing. Bruising not as heavy, and he'd eaten better as well, but he was 2 years younger and he wasn't as strong as the first girl. He was dead when LAPD found him." Don shook his head.

"These people are sick," said Charlie quietly.

"Tell me about it."

"The third, fourth and fifth all had the same MO. Suffocated. They were beaten pretty badly and obviously hadn't been feasting in the run up to their deaths, but LAPD could see they weren't regular abuse cases, so they called us in."

Terri spoke up, "ME said that they had all enjoyed pretty healthy lifestyles up until a month or so before their deaths. Naturally, missing persons was checked and turns out they were kidnapped at 2 week intervals all in the same area. Two of the kids lived not 2 blocks from each other. Went to the same school, mothers probably in the same mothers' union . . . Someone should have noticed earlier."

Charlie was still staring up at the projected image of the last child, a little boy of around 8. He seemed to be having trouble asking something that was on his mind. "What about, you know – other kinds of, you know – abuse?"

"Sexual abuse? None. That's what we can't get our heads around. It seems like these sickos just get off on killing children. Not one of them was touched, and they were examined pretty thoroughly."

Charlie nodded. He looked at the picture on the screen again and felt slightly relieved.

"What about maths?" Asked his brother probingly, stirring him from his reverie. "Anything suggests itself?"

Charlie considered. "If these people are serial then a statistical analysis of what we know of their movements is our best shot at finding out when and where they'll strike next."

Don nodded, "OK, thanks. We know roughly the area they are taken from and there is the 2 week separation between each one."

"The first two don't fit that," interrupted Terri.

Charlie looked at her, and she clarified, "They were taken from the same area, but they were found at least a month before the others started disappearing."

Charlie was thoughtful but Don spoke up. "Serials like to keep to plan, regular patterns, but sometimes other things get in the way, you know? One of the guys we have an eye on for this runs a business – stuff like that can get in the way."

"Evolution." Said Charlie, "Alter to survive. If he was going to keep to his precious scheme, he might risk getting caught. Better adapt the schedule so he can carry on tormenting kids in peace."

Charlie's humourless sarcasm caused Don to look up. He rarely heard his brother bitter about anything, except an unsolved maths problem. "You OK?" He asked.

Charlie shrugged. He didn't need to state that it was sick, or that it was wildly unfair. In fact, Don probably felt it more than he did, from what their dad had said.

Don was looking at him, "We're going to catch these guys," he said earnestly; Charlie got the feeling he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else, "We need your help."

Charlie smiled, "I understand. I have a half day today. I promise, I'll get to work on it as soon as possible."

Don's mobile rang and he answered it tersely, "Eppes. Right. Got it. On my way." He put the phone back in his pocket and said "Sorry guys, I have to go. Tubman's making trouble to answer questions. Says he doesn't accept his authority and wants to see his superior officer."

"You need backup?" Asked Terri.

Don shook his head. "Should be fine." He ruffled Charlie's hair (causing him moderate annoyance) and said "See you later," and was gone.

"You want me to get you the data Amita was using?" Asked Terri.

"Thanks, Terri," said Charlie.

He decided to go over to CalSci to work on it, rather than trying to work with FBI agents scurrying round him. Maths required concentration and concentration required peace. He had not been in his office 15 minutes however, when there was a knock at the door.

"Hey Charlie, is that the kidnapping data?"

Charlie smiled at his student and secret crush. He gestured to the board behind him and said "I've done some preliminary analysis of this stuff from the FBI, but its not clicking."

Amita smiled, "Yeah, I've been there."

"What does appear to be obvious is the difference between the first 2 cases and the other 3. Don has a theory that something outside of the murderer's control caused him to change his pattern, but I don't know, now that I look at the data, it's more like the first 2 had a different intent from the others."

She looked at him quizzically, "Why do you say that?"

"Well the time not fitting with the pattern could be as a result of the murderer's lifestyle, but the actual injuries –" He indicated to her different stats on things like size, pressure etc. of the children's bruises, as well as BMI when brought in, "– Well they just don't look the same. It's almost as if there was a different killer."

"Don does think they were working in a gang right?"

Charlie shook his head. "I don't think its just different people. Like I said, the _intent_ was different. I mean different groups. People with a different goal."

"So you're saying there are two groups of malicious child killers out there?" Said Amita slowly.

"Well I just hope not," said a weary voice from the door. When Don entered, he looked drained.

"You OK?" Charlie asked.

"I will be if you tell me you have good news," he replied, taking the only chair left and looking into his brother's face.

Charlie shrugged, "I'm sorry," he said, "There's nothing much at all I can tell you yet. Amita and I were just discussing the possibility of 2 separate gangs."

"Like I said," said Don, "I hope not. We can't even nail one gang."

Charlie changed the subject abruptly. "Are you sure they aren't being abused Don?"

"What? Yes, I'm sure. Why'd's'it keep bugging you?"

Charlie shrugged. "They must have wanted them for something." He said.

Don checked his watch, "you got anything else for me buddy?"

"Well, there is one thing," said Charlie, and Don inwardly smiled. He had known Charlie would come up with something. However small, it might lead to something bigger. He had to admire his younger brother – the guy stuck to it.

"See here –" Charlie uprooted a map from the endless papers that lounged about his desk. The map was marked with red circles, all concentrated in one area. "These people aren't stupid, or you would have caught them by now. They aren't going to be taking children from their own street. In fact, considering we know that all the abductions are centred in West side of town, it's highly probable that the abductors are located on the East side of town."

"Can't you do that thingy – what you did that time you helped us with the serial rapist. Something about locating the point of origin."

Charlie closed his eyes in mortification. Hearing such elegant mathematical techniques referred to as 'that thingy' was like hearing the taj mahal referred to as 'that barn.' When he opened them, he was just in time to see Don and Amita exchange amused looks. "I'm sorry. There just isn't enough data. Last time you had loads more victims, you had motive, besides which, all the attacks were spread out, as if randomly. This time they are within the same locality. All I can say is that your guys are definitely not from the West side of town."

Don nodded, disappointed, but at least Charlie had been able to point out something he had never noticed before. He was just about to leave, when Charlie said, "Oh yeah, another thing: I did a statistical analysis of the frequency of the attacks, just so you could be prepared for the next one, if it happened."

"Yeah? And when should we expect another one?"

"Well, unless my results are wrong, there would have been another murder two days ago."

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A/N again: If this was the TV programme, there would be one of those cool blackout moments when they have just delivered something supposed to keep us in suspense. Somehow, it just doesn't have the same effect in words. Oh well . . .


	4. Chapter 4

Don entered the deserted hallway and looked about him. On a plush leather chair sat a plush leather-clad secretary, reading something on a computer screen. She looked bored, like her day could be going a lot better than it was. Don walked over to the desk, deliberately not removing his sunglasses, although the lighting in the hall was poor. He cleared his throat and the secretary looked up, startled: she had obviously assumed she was on her own.

"Howard Madison?"

"He's not here right now," she said unhelpfully.

"That's not what my information tells me," he countered, trying to play it mysterious.

"What information would that be then?" She asked, barely interested. She scrolled down on the screen she was reading.

"FBI intelligence. Madison entered this building some time ago and hasn't left it since. Front or back entrance. So unless he can teleport, I want to see Howard Madison."

The secretary looked taken aback by his austere manner and glared at him as she touched an intercom. "Mr Madison, there is an FBI agent here wanting to see you," she paused and there was a silence before Don heard a voice come back "send him up."

"Fifth floor, third door on the right," said the secretary as she turned back to her computer screen, clearly determined not to give Don any more of her valuable time.

"Thank you very much," said Don as politely as could.

He did not hurry in the elevator on the way up; he didn't expect Madison to keep anything incriminating in his own office. Better to let him wait, if he was guilty, he would probably be wondering how Don had found him, if any of his associates had given him up, and how much the FBI knew.

Don knocked on the relevant door, which was labelled 'Mr H Madison, Chairman.' The man himself opened the door and smiled one of those superficial business-smiles.

"Do come in," he said, standing back and gesturing into his apartment in case Don was in any doubt as to which way 'in' was.

Don stepped in and removed his glasses.

"Now, what can I do for you agent?"

"Agent Eppes," said Don, not extending his hand. "I assume you know why I'm here, Mr Madison."

"Haven't the foggiest," said Madison cheerfully.

His charm act was doing nothing to improve Don's opinion of him.

"You'll have heard about the recent a spate of child kidnappings in the area," said Don, with a steely not in his voice, getting straight down to business. "I'm here to question you in connection with them."

The man's smile did not falter. _Fake,_ Don found himself thinking. If this man was really just a happy-go-lucky entrepreneur, his smile would definitely have wavered at this news.

"In the area? If you're referring to those incidents in the paper – I thought we were safe – I thought they were only on the west side of town."

"_You_ are safe Mr Madison.These scumbags prey on children, not grown men." Don did not trouble to keep the contempt out of his voice now.

"Indeed. Well then, what did you want to ask me?" He was playing innocent.

"First I want to know everything about your relationship with Rory Tubman. Then I want a detailed account of your movements for the past month. After that I'll decide whether to get a warrant to search your apartment, or whether to just arrest you on the spot. But you can start by telling me about Tubman; we'll take it from there." Don was speaking sharply now, nearly spitting the words out. He knew Madison was involved. There was something about the casual, cheerful exterior that smelt phony. This was the one.

"I used to know Rory Tubman on the buses years ago. We used to drive together on long shifts – you know, taking it in turns. I haven't seen Rory in oh – 6 – 7 years. But for the rest of it – I have no idea what you're talking about. If you think I had anything to do with any child-nappings, you're rocking the wrong boat. I'm a married man. I have 3 kids myself. You can't be a parent, Agent, or you would understand what every father goes through when one of his own kids so much as stubs his toe; I couldn't harm a kid. Look, I appreciate you taking the trouble to come to my office and everything, but if it's Tubman you're looking for, I can't help you."

In a moment the jovial exterior had vanished a new layer was visible. He was still docile, still composed, but there was an iron barrier beneath it all. He wasn't about to admit to anything. He was still relying on the fact that had Don had no evidence to link him to any crimes. Unfortunately, if he kept it up it was in danger of working. All Don had was an association that was nearly a decade old, and that wasn't anything like what he needed for a warrant, they both knew.

Don locked his gaze angrily for a second, but the tension was diffused by Don's cell phone ringing.

"Eppes," he snapped.

"Don? Its Charlie. Where are you?" He sounded vaguely excited.

"Charlie I'm in the middle of questioning a suspect," said Don exasperatedly.

"Madison? That's just it Don. I think I've found something! I've been going through Madison's company accounts, looking for any anomalies."

Don glanced up at Madison, who was wearing a relaxed 'can-I-help-you' expression.

"There's nothing obvious, but I think – I _think_ you understand, I don't know anything, but I think –"

"Yeah Charlie, I get that part," interjected Don impatiently.

"I think I can see a pattern there. There are a number of small payments, made on consecutive days, in the run up to and days after a kidnapping. Obviously, there are plenty of small payments other times as well, but from the graphs I've drawn, there is a definite increase in frequency around the times of a kidnapping."

"Charlie, this is good, when can you be sure?"

"There are a few algorithms I could run if you like. It would probably be ready by tomorrow sometime."

"Charlie you're a genius – has anyone ever told you that?"

Charlie chuckled, said "bye" and rang off. Don flipped his phone closed and looked down at Madison, who had seated himself on a chair behind his deck during the conversation.

"You know who that was?" Said Don.

"Charlie?" Said Madison sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah it was Charlie actually." Said Don, "Charlie is my brother and he also happens to be a brilliant mathematician and a consultant for the FBI. And you know what? Charlie is going to nail you for your little scheme you're running. You may not have left any physical evidence, Madison, but everybody leaves numbers."

"OK, right. _Now_ I'm scared."

"Yeah? Well you'd better be, because I'm not going to stop until I have you and you're partner Tubman for what you're doing – so just keep talking."

"Agent Eppes? Do you have anything productive to say? Because if not I must ask you to leave. I am a very busy man – I have better things to do than be harassed for crimes I would not dream of committing." He stood up and strode around to the door and opened it. Don's lips were tight with anger as he passed Madison, but he kept his face otherwise impassive. He did not look back as the door closed, but walked into the elevator and pushed the down button.

Back in the apartment, Madison opened the cupboard door. It was a primitive hiding place, but it was the best they could do at short notice. Rory Tubman stepped out.

"Agent Eppes seems to be taking this personally," he said.

"You sound disappointed," said Madison.

"Trust me; I've met enough feds in my time. It's easier when they don't take it personally. The lack of sleep, the over-sensitivity, it just adds to their belligerence. Sometimes it takes months for them to get off your case. Of course, it can work in your favour as well. They tend to be so keen to pin you with something there's a chance they'll make the mistake of arresting you too early without the proper evidence."

Madison looked thoughtful. "What we really need is some leverage then. Something to make him keep his distance."

Tubman nodded pensively. "I didn't catch much of what he said in there. What idiot interior designer put a boiler right in a cupboard like that? Does the man actually have any evidence."

Madison shrugged. "Highly unlikely, otherwise he would have mentioned it. He knows we were friends, so I didn't see the point in denying it, but I claimed not to have seen you for 7 years."

"That was dumb – he can easily check you out on that."

"It's not a crime to pretend you haven't seen someone."

"I'm telling you Howard, Eppes is going to keep digging. The more he finds, the more he's gonna dig."

Madison bit his lip. "He got a phonecall. Said it was his brother. Reckons – get this, right – reckons his brother's a consultant for the FBI and is going to somehow use _maths_ to prove we're involved."

Tubman did not smile back, but he did look intrigued. "He has a brother?" He said slowly. "How interesting. You know, I think we may have found that leverage we were looking for. Agent Eppes wants to take this personally? Its his call."

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A/N: Den, den, den . . .

Sorry for Don going all Horatio Caine-esque on you there, I just couldn't resist ;-)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Yes, I know I seem to have died and deserted you, but let me assure you all I am still alive (those who have been waiting for me to post for the last centuary start sharpening their hatchets at this last statement). I have had most of my time taken up with exams and coursework with are finally over and I am on holiday for the next **two months **which will give me time to make up for my gross abandonment hitherto. If anyone is faithfull enough to still be out there, let me reward you by a promise of another chapter within the next 7 days.

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Alan Eppes sat round the table with his two sons. The food was nearly finished and Don and Charlie were eagerly discussing their latest case. Well, Don's latest case, but Charlie already seemed just as absorbed by it.

Don had briefly explained to his father Charlie's findings and their latest suspicions without giving away any classified information, but although Alan sympathised with his excitement, he had hoped that this idea of dinner at home might have been enough to drive the case from Don's mind for at least one night. Obsession was not good. It caused you to miss what was going on around you, and there was a hell of a lot going on around Don right now, if he could only see it. Terri had been there only that afternoon, she had been at her kindest and most helpful, but Don, while perfectly friendly and grateful to her, and perfectly swept away with her to Alan's practiced eye, had completely misunderstood every gentle overture on her part.

"I had a task force checking out those garages today, they haven't found anything but that's nothing new. It'll take them at least a week to get through them all thoroughly."

"Where are they working from?" Asked Charlie, absentmindedly shredding the vegetables left on his plate with his fork.

"I just told you, from the garages," replied Don, confused.

"No, I mean are they working from the middle of the row outwards, from the ends inwards, or starting at one end moving towards the other?"

"I dunno. Does it matter?"

"Strategically speaking, it would be better for them to have a garage right in the middle, therefore those are the ones they should search first. Of course, it may be a factor beyond their control, in which case there's nothing you can do."

"I'll check on that," promised Don taking a sip of his drink. He looked up to see Charlie still shredding his vegetables, staring into space. Something seemed to be bothering him. "What is it?"

"What? Oh, nothing. It's just … you said these guys weren't sexually abusing the children . . ."

"Charlie, that's a good thing. Why do you keep bringing it up?"

Charlie frowned at him, trying to put his thoughts into words, "it's just that if they aren't abusing them . . . they must want them for something, Don. They don't just get kicks out of it. These guys are smart – its – there has to be a reason they're kidnapping these kids."

"Charlie, some guys are just sick –"

"I know that," said Charlie impatiently, "but don't you see; this whole thing is too much effort to go through just because killing children gives you a high. Besides, I don't mean to be stereotypical but the kind of guys who get off on killing kids aren't normally the kind you'd associate with this level of intelligence. It's been what, several weeks, and no one can lay a finger on them –"

"We have your bank account evidence," cut in Don defensively.

"That indicates you might, possibly, be on the right track. It's not proof," he spoke bitterly.

"I don't get it. You were the one who was all excited about it this morning." Said Don.

"It's not enough. You said so yourself."

Alan suddenly cut in, "I've been thinking. Listen, what you said just now Charlie about these guys needing the kids for some purpose. In some countries people have a lot of children because children earn money. In the US children aren't allowed to work, so they can't earn money for their parents, so they cost money, but in poorer countries children are a source of income."

Don and Charlie exchanged a look that said only too plainly that they both thought this was going no where. If Alan was about to suggest what Don thought he was, the idea was simply too far-fetched to be conceivable. "Dad, that's all very well, but we _are_ in the US," Don interrupted.

"Yes – that's what I was coming to. I remember once, just before I met your mum, I was working with this charity to do with social security. Looking after children from underprivileged families. Well – if you earn below a certain amount, or are a single parent, for every extra child you have you get more money. Could be as much as a hundred extra a month."

"But then that'd go on feeding the child and looking after them," said Charlie uncomprehendingly.

"Only if you did feed them," said Alan darkly, and Charlie thought about the photographs of the emaciated victims.

"Are you trying to say someone kidnapped five children to commit benefit fraud?" Put in Don with a hefty amount of scepticism in his voice.

"Not just someone. This would have to be a pretty big operation for it to make enough money for it to be worth it. Kidnapping children isn't easy – if you kidnap enough people you have the FBI on your track – so it would have to be really profitable for it to be worth it, and the only way to make it profitable is to make it into a large scale thing."

Don shook his head. "But – you couldn't operate this whole scam on just five victims – especially if they're dead."

Alan looked at him. "Come on Don, how many children have disappeared in the last year alone that never found their way onto the FBI agenda? I've seen a missing persons list. And you wouldn't need that many anyway. The neighbours would notice things so it would be a good idea to have one or two permanently about the house, but not the same ones or they may become familiar, and occasionally social security will come round and check on the kids, so you'd need a contact who could get you a few children at short notice, but trust me, its not that hard a crime to get away with. Social security are overworked already; it only has to look half genuine and no one's going to have the time or inclination to look any further."

"So how did these five end up dead then?"

Alan shrugged, "something went wrong," he suggested.

"How come you know so much about this anyway? It's hardly anything to do with city planning."

"Like I said, I used to work for this charity for underprivileged children in LA. That was where I met you mother if you want to know. You used to see quite a lot of things you'd rather think weren't happening.

"I remember just after I joined, something similar to this came up. A woman got sent to jail for pretending she had more children than she did by borrowing some from a friend whenever the social worker went round.

"It took ages for anyone to twig what was going on because, like I said, no one really looked into it for a long time. At the time there was a whisper that she wasn't the only one – that there was a big business going on beneath the surface – but nothing more was found out as far as I know."

Don was silent for a moment then he looked sharply up at Charlie and said with a hint of enthusiasm in his voice "hey – that would fit in with what you said about there being two different perpetrators remember? It could have been two different sets of parents!"

Charlie nodded slowly, "I suppose it could. It does seem _plausible_, but I still think it's highly improbable."

For a few moments they were all silent then Charlie said, "to be honest Don, there are – mathematically – infinite possibilities why these children are being kidnapped. No offence Dad, but the chance of you hitting of the correct reason among so many is extremely slim.

Alan smiled, "I don't disagree," he said. "But whether your case is anything to do with it or not, this sort of thing does go on. You might as well check it out Don, at least to eliminate it."

"You know what?" Said Don, "I'll get Terri onto it right away. I know the chances of Dad hitting on the correct one are remote, but you have to admit the evidence we have so far _does_ seem to fit. After all we haven't found a suitable explanation up to now, and if this kind of scam does happen, isn't someone going to stumble across it sooner or later? It could be now." He had his cell phone out, almost rising out of his chair at the possibility that they might be getting somewhere. "Dad – you're amazing," he said, dialling his 4th speed dial. "Hey Terri - listen –"

While he quickly expounded this theory to Terri, Alan exchanged a significant look with Charlie who nodded slightly.

"– OK, that's great, check on that and get back to me. Yeah. See you." Don put the phone down and looked around the table.

"Don," said Charlie tentatively, "maybe you should give this thing a rest for this evening."

Don opened his mouth and looked as if he was about to reply sharply when he seemed to change his mind and shut it again. He sighed and said, "yeah, OK Charlie, I'll give it a rest for this evening." Out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn he saw his dad wink at Charlie as he got up to take his plate into the kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

Charlie opened the door to Don's stall at the FBI office.

"Hey Charlie," said Don.

Charlie said "hey" and nodded to the agent who was sitting at one of the two chairs in the office, drinking a coffee.

"Listen, Don, this is urgent. I've been searching on the internet for tax fraud statistics all morning. I checked missing persons registers for the past three years against the data the Terri got me about parents claiming benefits in the LA area. Don, preliminary results show that Dad was right. I think we've found the reason these kids are being kidnapped."

Don stared at Charlie for a moment then said, "that's great buddy, listen to me, can you go grab a coffee or something? I have something to deal with. I'll be with you in a moment."

Charlie nodded and left, slightly confused. He went down to reception deciding to see if Terri or David had signed in, but they were still out, so he made his way back up to Don's office. As he got there the female he had taken to be an agent was leaving the office. She was crying.

"What's going on?" Asked Charlie after she had gone.

Don breathed heavily. "I'm sorry, I should have stopped you. I didn't think – Charlie, that was the mother of one of the victims. Her son was Dody Bierets"

Charlie stared at him. "What?"

"Exactly. Listen, it's not your fault. Don't worry about it."

"Don, I feel so – I didn't know –"

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. She'll be OK. She had something to tell me, something she'd forgotten about the last time she'd seen her son, but it didn't really matter anyway."

Charlie was barely listening. "Can I come back later? I – maybe I should come back later."

"Yeah. Sure. Where are you going?"

But Charlie was already heading into the lift to take him down to ground level. He caught up with the woman in the car park. She was fumbling with her handbag to reach her keys.

"Hey," said Charlie.

She looked around smiled a watery smile.

"Hey."

"I'm, I'm Charlie Eppes," he said, extending a hand, "I'm a consultant on your son's case."

"Marina Bierets."

"Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened just now. I should have asked who you were before I started off. I assumed you were another agent. I mean," he continued when she didn't say anything, "there are so many of them, it's hard to remember all their faces . . ." He trailed off into silence and stared at her car.

She gave a small nervous laugh and another watery smile. "That's OK. It – you didn't say anything wrong. I just would have preferred to have not been there while you were discussing it. Your brother – that was your brother?" Charlie nodded. "He explained to me the FBI's latest theory. It's very hard to take in. They were trafficking my own son, passing him off as theirs."

Charlie nodded. "I understand. I find it terrible to believe myself." She still looked very miserable and he could not shake the feeling that it was entirely his fault. She must be feeling rather like a patient who has walked in on a conference of doctors discussing her case. Nothing was essentially wrong with that, but it must give a nasty jolt in the stomach to hear her little boy talked about in such an impersonal manner without any attempt at the delicacy she must have grown used to people using when they talked about her dead son. He should have been more professional than to discuss the case so tactlessly in front of an unknown stranger. He was struck with an idea and said suddenly, "listen, would you like something to drink?"

She smiled at him and brushed some more of her tears away. "Thank you. That would be nice."

Charlie led the way to a coffee bar near the FBI headquarters that he knew wouldn't be too busy this time of day.

Twenty minutes later she was still slightly red around the eyes but she was able to keep up a conversation without making frequent use of the tissue she had clutched in her hand. "It's been so hard since Dody disappeared. I – my husband was a solider. He was in Iraq." Charlie nodded sympathetically. "He went missing about three years ago. Ever since then Dody's been the only thing in my life. I was always determined never to be an overprotective parent. Now I wish I had." She shook her head. "I always made him be in by 7, and he had his mobile so I could call him if he was late. I took every precaution I could . . ."

"Ms Bierets** –**"

"Marina."

"Marina, there was _nothing_ you could have done to stop Dody disappearing. Don't torment yourself with guilt you shouldn't be feeling. Statistically speaking, Dody had far more chance getting run over than kidnapped. If you taught him to look right, left and right again and held his hand when he crossed the road you did the most you or any parent could have done."

"You're a mathematician aren't you?"

Charlie blushed, "sorry. I tend to use maths in any argument. But this time I'm right. I'm surprised Don didn't tell you the same thing."

"He did."

"Then believe him," said Charlie earnestly. "You must be going through a kind of hell other people can only dream about. There's no point making things worse for yourself."

Marina Bierets smiled at him, a genuine smile that was born of the relief she suddenly felt in her heart. She had told very few people what had tortured her most about the death of her son, but Charlie's words made her realise that she could never have stopped it and they lifted a great weight off her shoulders."

"Thank you for the coffee," she said, suddenly getting up. "I think it's about time I got on with my life."

Charlie got up to, they shook hands and – somehow it felt right – Charlie held her in a brief hug for a few seconds, then he stood watching her make her way back to her car in the FBI car park He wasn't sure what change had come over her during their interview but he knew one thing, he was more convinced than ever now of the devastation these people had caused on many unsuspecting families. Marina Bierets wasn't the only one. Five children had disappeared and which meant five families were going through what Marina was going through. Charlie was determined to help Don catch them before it became and more.

Later, while Don was driving him over to CalSci, Charlie related some of these feelings to his older brother. "This is real people we're talking about. Real victims. They aren't just numbers in an embezzlement. Their lives will never be the same again, Don . . ."

"I know Buddy," said Don. Hearing Charlie say all this wasn't exactly helping him, but he reminded himself how hard this must be for Charlie to deal with this.

". . . It's just not fair," concluded Charlie miserably.

They pulled up at a traffic light and Don looked over at him. Gone was the energy of a few hours ago when he had been enigmatically describing his results to Don and the team, now he was slumped in his seat staring disconsolately out of the window. Don had been on enough dead-end cases to know that it was natural for the people working on it to run hot and cold, alternately filled with hope and despair, but he could also sense that this wasn't exactly like that. Charlie's current mood was not due to a concern of not being able to solve the case, more that he realised that even if they solved the case and brought the killers to justice, nothing could ever bring the children back from the dead.

At that moment Don's mobile rang. "Eppes." He said.

"Right – Got it – I'm on my way," was all that was said on Don's half of the conversation but as he pocketed his phone and pulled away from the lights he explained briefly that Madison had just walked into the FBI office demanding to speak to him Don about Rory Tubman. "Terri says Madison reckons he has some new information on Tubman and 'wants to co-operate' but she says she has no clue what he's playing at."

Charlie looked up at him, "are you sure it's not a set-up?"

"No Charlie; I'm sure it _is_ a set-up, but I want to see what they're setting up and why. I'll have to just drop you off at CalSci, sorry I can't come in. Listen, I'll come by your place tonight OK?"

"That's fine."

As Don let his little brother out in the CalSci grounds he did not even glance in the rear-view mirror to see whether he made it in or not: his mind was on other things, like what the hell Tubman was playing at. That mind, however, could not have been further from suspecting the sort of set-up that took himself away from Charlie at this particular moment in time. Little did he realise that he had just missed what was possibly his last chance to see Charlie ever again.

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A/N: For those of you who have been sitting their just waiting for something bad to happen to Charlie, I think the following chapters should apease you. Bear in mind though, while there will be a certain amount of angst, I am not a sadist, so if you are looking for endles pages of gratuitous Charlie-torture, you'd better go read some other fic.


	7. Chapter 7

"Dad? Charlie?" Called Don as he let himself into his brother's craftsman home at around 8 that evening.

"Oh, hey Donnie, Charlie isn't back yet," said his father appearing from the lounge. "I figured he was with you."

Don shook his head, "I was interviewing a suspect – what a waste of time that turned out to be. He must be still at CalSci, I dropped him off there around lunchtime."

The father and son shared an indulgent smile as they both thought about previous times Charlie had let his work distract him from the real world so that he forgot to eat, sleep, or any of the other normal functions. "Tell you what, I'll give him an hour and then I'll drive over and get him." Said Don, who knew better to try Charlie's mobile. The sound of a mobile ringing while he was working would be as insignificant to Charlie as the sound of a fly on the windowsill. The pair sat down in the living room and Don turned on the TV while they waited.

An hour came and went. Don decided to give his brother a bit longer because he didn't want to miss him in transit. At 9.30 he dialled Charlie's mobile but received no answer. While his father looked on quizzically, Don left a message on Charlie's answerphone telling him that he was coming to pick him up. "Keep trying his mobile," Don instructed his father as he left, "when he picks up tell him not to leave CalSci or I'll miss him."

The drive to CalSci was not long but Don was surprised to find it all in darkness when he got there. The doors were still open because students and professors often worked late into the night, but the corridor that led to Charlie's classroom was dark and the classroom uninhabited. Likewise with his office. "Damn," said Don. Charlie hadn't picked up then, and Don had wasted his journey going to fetch him when he had already left. Annoyed, Don walked back to his car and drove home to Charlie place keeping an eye out for Charlie on the way. He had half a mind to let Charlie walk it even if he did meet him. As he pulled into the house his Dad came running out to him.

"Dad – are you OK?"

Wordlessly Alan placed a piece of paper he was holding into Don's hands and then led the way back into the house. He looked ready to collapse.

_Agent Eppes_

_Your brother has been kidnapped. Drop the case. You have 48 hours to hand it in as unsolved to your supervisor or you will never see Charlie again. _

_Do not underestimate us and do not try to find him. You will regret it._

_Yours Sincerely_

Don read the note twice and then looked up at his father who was staring at him. Don tried to speak but found he could say nothing to comfort the look of desperation that he found in his father's eyes so he took refuge in pursuing the note again. He shook his head. There was no doubt in his mind as what "_the case_" could mean; although technically he had three unsolved cases to work on at the moment, there was only one case that was occupying his thoughts. "There's no way . . ." What he was reading just wasn't possible. He grabbed his phone and dialled Charlie again, his fingers slipping on the keys as he did so. Dead. "Dad . . ." began Don, but he couldn't finish the sentence.

Alan was the first to recover, "Its OK," he said in a strained, unnatural voice. "It's OK. We're going to get him back. He's going to be fine and we're going to get him back."

Alan's words spurred Don into action. His phone was still in his hand and he dialled Terri at the FBI office. From her voice Don could tell she was as distressed as he was, but her professional training kicked in immediately and she made arrangements to meet Don at Charlie's house with a task force as soon as possible.

Don snapped his phone shut and started pacing the living room. "How could this have happened? When did they take him? They must have been at the university! They could have been there while I dropped him off, waiting! Why didn't I see – see – oh my God." He momentarily paused his pacing to stare at his father in horror. "It _was_ a set-up, I just didn't see what kind. They wanted to make sure I wasn't anywhere near Charlie when they grabbed him." He shook his head and resumed his pacing, furious with himself for playing into their little trap. Had he even considered what the stakes might have been he would never have been so foolhardy.

Alan, who had very little idea of what his son was talking about had sunk into a chair with his head in his hands. Of all the dangers the concerned parent had envisaged for his two sons in their line of work, kidnap had never entered into his nightmares. FBI agents and FBI consultants did not get kidnapped. Shot, yes. Stabbed, yes. Kidnapped? But Don had other worries on his mind.

"How on earth could they have known I have a brother? It's not like Charlie's brought into the public – oh hell!" Punching a wall in frustration his mind skipped back to his phone conversation with Charlie in Madison's office.

"What is it?" Asked Alan.

"I spoke to Charlie on the phone! I spoke to him in Madison's office! Then – then Madison asked me and I boasted to him about Charlie's ability to solve cases for the FBI when people thought they had left no evidence. I was trying to get Madison rattled."

"You spoke to Charlie in front of a potential suspect?" Repeated Alan disbelievingly.

"Yes," replied Don, slightly defensive at his father's tone.

"Don – what were you thinking? How could you put your brother in danger like that?"

"What danger dad? How on earth was I supposed to know Charlie was in danger from what I was saying? I though Madison was a paedophile at the time, remember."

"What does it matter what he was, he was still a criminal," said Alan, his voice sounding more accusatory by the minute, it was almost as if he had added 'and you brought Charlie to his attention,' he didn't, but the words hung in the air between them nonetheless.

"A paedophile would never have kidnapped Charlie," said Don in a voice of determined patience. "They are often extremely law abiding people in everyday life and 99 of the time they only ever harm children. These mercenaries however will use any and all means to get what they want."

"But you didn't have to answer the call," pressed Alan.

"I did." Said Don shortly. "I answered Charlie like I'd answer a call from Terri or David or any FBI consultant. It wasn't a social call: what Charlie had to say was directly relevant to the suspect I was interviewing. I can't give him preferential treatment simply because he's my brother."

"Well it's a pity these people don't play by your rules. They have no scruples about using him to get you to play ball."

"Dad, they have no scruples at all," said Don quietly. He heard the sound of a car drawing up outside. "What the hell am I doing? Charlie has 48 hours for me to find his kidnappers and find him and I've just wasted 15 minutes of them." Then without looking back at his father he hurried out to his car, feeling guilty about not doing so, but shoving these feelings away until he was at leisure to worry about them.

**47 hours, 45 minutes **

CalSci university was swarming with forensic teams, plainclothes detectives, besuitted agents and other FBI personnel in dark blue windbreakers. To one side of the car park stood David Sinclair interviewing a stricken Amita and a very pale Larry who had both been waiting for Charlie to turn up but had assumed he had been tied up with Don. They had been working late on a project the three of them had undertaken as a bit of fun and had been in Larry's classroom when the FBI turned up. Now they were haltingly answering David's questions.

As Don came striding across the car park to meet them, Amita detached herself from the group and came running over to him. "Have you heard anything?" was her first question and "Is your father OK?" was her second. When Don had replied to both these questions in the negative she said, "is there anything I can do?"

Don looked over to where Larry was still being interview by David. He was touched by their emotion on his brother's behalf. Charlie had good friends here; Don just prayed he would live to see them again. Something inside he was struggling to contain threatened to escape him as he thought this but he clamped it down and said, "if there is I'll call you straight away, alright?"

Terri appeared at his side, "we just found this in Charlie's office, under the desk," she said. "It indicates that he did manage to get inside the building. He was probably working on them and pushed them under the desk when they showed up." Don took the papers from her and examined them unaware that Terri was scrutinizing him closely as he did so. He handed the papers to Amita saying, "this was what Charlie was working on. They're mainly statistics about tax fraud and missing persons, but I think there's some stuff about certain specific cases in there too. It might help if you can pick up where he – where he left off."

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A/N: If you are worried that this is just a 'Charlie gets kidnapped' fic, there is a case plot in here as well which I spent a long time working out, so I hope you'll stick with it ;-)


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